


Five Lives

by animalpet



Series: JoJoGard [2]
Category: Drag-On Dragoon | Drakengard, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Body Horror, But seriously it sucks to be him in DOD3, Canonical Character Death, Giorno has no parental figure in this au, Graphic Description of Corpses, I don't know if I understand GioGio enough but I tried, I literally could not stop until I finished, I wanted this to be short, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, In varying levels, M/M, Resurrection, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, They were all bad, You might think that these conflict one another, Zombies, and it sucked, but Giorno had other plans, but trust me, i was possessed, implied fluff, it'll make sense later, no one is under 18 in this au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 18:05:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animalpet/pseuds/animalpet
Summary: Giorno descends into madness, singing cries of resurrection





	1. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giorno is a busy man
> 
> Giorno forgets he even has a body until Mista reminds him

Giorno Giovanna has not slept in seven days and seven nights.

He’s been tinkering away at his desk, double checking his calculations, creating new hypothesis, putting in orders for new experiments.

He felt like crap, but he knew that he’ll feel worse if he didn’t finish.

He leaned back into his chair, groaning as his neck cracked as he moved it, rubbing it softly.

“ _ What we’re doing is right _ .”

Giorno shot up. Hearing things was the norm after three days of sleeplessness, but echoes of the past still made him feel like a child instead of an Intoner, or a king.

_ Who said that first?  _ he wondered, flipping through his notebook again.  _ Me or Bruno _ ?

He picked back up his pen again, only to frown when he realized that the tip was basically chewed off.

He ran his tongue over his uniquely sharp incisors, accidentally drawing his own blood.

Instead of wincing in pain, Giorno ran his bleeding tongue across the roof of his mouth, savoring the salty taste.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the door open.

He turned. “I said that I was—“

“Busy? I know GioGio.”

Giorno sighed. “Mista, I thought I sent you to guard Gianluca while he talks with One.”

“You did,” Mista stepped out of the darkness, careful not to disturb the stacks of papers and books scattered all over the floor. “We came back.”

“And?”

“And your plan worked, like always.” he poked a finger through the blinds. “We have the last of the fuel for the Miracle tomorrow.”

“It’s tomorrow?” Giorno groaned, rubbing his temples. “Ugh—I still need to see if Fugo has returned—What are you doing?”

“Opening the blinds.”

Giorno froze. “Wait Mista—“

Mista three the blind open, and the room erupted into sunlight.

Mista smiled as he looked back over to Giorno. “I couldn’t see you that well in the dark.”

Giorno had an even greater frown then before. Without darkness, he could no longer hide his current state from his disciple.

Giorno’s dark sleek dress was undone at the collar, sliding off of his pale and sunken skin, revealing his bare chest, and the fact he he hasn’t been able to stomach anything for the past week. His eyes had heavy, dark bags under hanging off of glazed over orbs instead of eyes. His hair was undone, matted and overgrown like a mass of golden weeds instead of its usual golden shine. Giorno’s dry lips were stained with something that Mista hoped was pen ink. 

Mista bent down and kissed Giorno’s forehead. “Fugo and the other will be back tonight. You need a bath, GioGio,” he said, his dark big eyes closed as he spoke softly. “You smell worse than me.”

“....Yes—“ Giorno bit his lip, looking back at all of the papers he wasn’t looked at. “—But you need to have Coniglio look these over for me…”

****

The bathhouse was specially constructed to look as if it was constructed by angels itself. While it used to be the torture chamber of the previous king, Giorno decided that he wanted somewhere private to unwind after an especially gruelling day, so he had it completely renovated, and then guarded it with shrubbery and man-eating vines so no one could enter without his say-so.

Mista slowly peeled the black dress off of Giorno’s skin, taking his time to inspect the full amount of negligence Giorno had committed against his own body while the private bathhouse was filled.

Giorno dripped a single toe into the water and he felt as if he was dipping a toe in lava. He fell to the floor, holding himself and shaking.

“That wouldn’t happen if you’d take care of yourself better.” Mista said, brushing his hands over the fire sigils lining the bathhouse walls.

Giorno gasped. “I—know—that—”

“Do you?” Mista asked.

Giorno glared back at him. “If you’re mad at me, just say so—”

Mista looked back at him. “I wouldn’t be mad if I didn’t have to worry about your ability to take care of yourself...What is it?”

Giorno’s face was beat red. “You’re…..undressing as well….”

Mista held his pants in one hand. “You’ve seen me naked before.”

“I’d prefer not to see your naked form when I look like crap.”

“Then think of it as punishment then, GioGio.” Mista smirked, shaking his hips a bit as he led Giorno slowly into the water.

Once waist deep, Giorno leaned back, feeling Mista’s chest hairs as he shuffled around. “How is my dear old father?”

“Jonathan?” Mista didn’t break his concentration, running the comb through Giorno’s locks. “The same. Fucking unremarkable with a major stick up his ass.”

Giorno snorted, tapping his taloneqsue nails against the stone-cut edges of the bath. “Well, that stick of his masks many secrets…”

“You jealous?”

“No, I will prove myself to him in time….Was Fugo and the others able to get what I asked of them?”

“Yeah, the targets are secure, but there was an incident when recovering the last two from the Country of Sands—”

“Is Jotaro aware of it yet?”

“No, Sheila E took care of that….” Mista sighed.

“What is it?” Giorno asked, turning his head around. His eyes looked refreshed, a piercing see-green that reminded Mista of the good and bad they’ve seen over the years.

“It’s just, I’ve seen many kings, emperors and other bastards over the years, and I  _ really _ thought that I’d be done with all this espionage crap.” Mista’s arm rested against Giorno’s waist, pulling him closer. “I want to be with you...eating expensive puddings and walking in garden, I want to go an a normal fucking date again.”

Giorno held Mista’s face. “And we will, Guido. We will live lives in which no one can attempt to deceive us, were we won’t be controlled by forces greater than ours, for there won’t be any.  There’ll be a day were we don’t have to be afraid of is world anymore...and we can go on so many dates that you’ll grow sick of them….but first—”

Giorno’s eyes narrowed, almost serpentine. “—but first, we must make sure that no one can take anything from us ever again. Nothing must destroy the flawless victory we’ve achieved, that is why we must currently take such secretive action. Jonathan is a fool, but a fool with more sway with the other intoners than I could ever hope. I am not a monster, but he still puts me on a leash. The life that  _ we  _ want, the life that we  _ deserve _ , is waiting for us if the Miracle Festival goes perfectly.”

“I don’t give a shit if the other lands never respect us,” Mista  grimaced, shaking Giorno off. “I just don’t want anyone else dead.”

Giorno let his arms fall to his side and turned back around.

“I need to test the Song tonight. Have Coniglio meet me at the first lab and tell Fugo to wait in my room.”

“What? I can’t go to your room?”

“No.” Giorno stretched out his legs.

“Why?”

“You have me right now. Make it count.”


	2. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coni is overworked
> 
> Giorno has big dreams
> 
> The past is brought back and twisted

“ _ What was working for the prince of Passione like?” _

_ He’s not like the late king,  _ Coniglio would say.  _ He was a prince even before he was crowned one. He’s serene, he’s calm, he’s caring, he’s _ —

“—he runs a tight ship—” she ran down the twisting corridors.

— _ he’s really as bad as any of them, if you believe the rumors _ —

“—but he’s fair—”

“—Talking to yourself again Coni?”

Coniglio stopped. “Wha—Murolo? I didn’t see you!”

Murolo stepped out of the darkness. “You’re not supposed to. What’s the rush?”

Coniglio used her dark, rosewood colored hands to move her white cloud-like dreads out of her face, speaking faster. “I was looking over Giorno’s notes on the Miracle Festival, but Mista came in after a while and told me that he wanted to see my for trial runs, and I didn’t want to be late—”

He puts his hands up. “You don’t need to tell me everything, I just get curious when people are running in the middle of the night. I’m supposed to write a report that due tomorrow anyway.”

“Oh…” she turned around.

Before Murolo could slink back into the darkness, Coniglio spoke.

“Hey Murolo...you trust Giorno, right?”

“You don’t?”

“I...don’t know…”

“He’s the best of a bad lot. I don’t trust the intoners, but I trust him.” Murolo answered. “Once he gets what he wants, everything will have order to it, we can have the lives free of fear.”

“Yeah...free of fear…”

_ Intoners get what they want, and he is no exception _

****

“You’re late.”

“Sorry,” Coniglio closed the secret passageway, the stone blocks lining back up in their proper places.

Giorno didn’t respond. He was wearing a large lab coat with with yellow and black ladybug brooch near his heart. His high heel boots wear a similar with with light blue soles, and is hair was wrapped into a single cone with a braid in the back.

He was fashionable, even when he was upset.

Coniglio hurried over the the eight caskets in the center of the lab. “We managed to restore most of them, but the second one, the informant, was too damaged to properly restore, and you said that we couldn’t rely on Intoner Josuke’s power, but it would be too dangerous for me to absorb—”

“—I fixed him while I was waiting for you.”

“—O-Okay.” Coniglio slowly opened the rest of the caskets, before pulling out a control panel and desk from the adjacent wall.

Eight faces, all alien to her.

Giorno silently inspected each of them, opening their jaws and moving around their clothes checking for unrepaired wounds or anything other flaws that might impede his progress.

“Coni—”

She looked up.

“—do you know who these men were?”

“Um, no, GioGio.”

“They were the best assassins this court has ever had. They were ruthless, cutting down dissidents and rebels in the name for their great king.”

“Didn’t...they rebel against him as well?”

“They did, after he had two of them killed to instill fear. They were only in it for the money however, and I didn’t need a reason to cut them down.”

“Why?”

“If I was anyone else in my family, I’d say ‘because I am an Intoner.’ and leave it at that.” Giorno sneered at the thought. “But I did it because they methods of rebellion required an important piece I needed to win. I was inspired by an important man to build a new Passione out of the ashes, something that soon became my everything.” he was talking to 

“Do, do you need me to start first?”

“Hmm?” Giorno looked. “Yes, you’ll begin and I’ll boost you with my Song.”

****

_ The “miracle” is simple. _

_ To permanently revive the dead. _

_ Even with his power performing at his max level, any life energy Giorno gives someone is fleeting, lasting a few weeks at most. _

_ And even worse, those whose souls who have already fled this world are almost impossible to reach. _

_ Almost. _

****

Coniglio groaned, on her hands and knees as she forced her power to spread over eight bodies through the sigil.

“H-Hey, Giorno.” She looked up. “You think you wanna try singing now?”

“Just a moment.” Giorno craned his head back. “The powers of Song is corrosive, especially if I let my deepest desires slip through.”

Coniglio heaved, trying to keep up the connection for a few more minutes when Giorno closed his eyes and started to Sing.

An Intoner’s Song was nothing like a human’s, or even a demi-humans. It was a Song created by the sound of dying worlds, of realities being torn apart and remade. It was a Song that an Intoner could never truly gain full mastery of only specialize.

Jonathan specialized in passion.

Joseph was divination.

Jotaro was time.

Josuke, despite his flaws, was restoration.

Giorno specialized in two.

_ Come back to me— _

Life.

_ —You did not end _

And Reduction.

_ Your minds burn with the desires of the living— _

To be able to trigger spontaneous generation

_ —You must come back _

_ Your fear is no more, your pain is gone— _

And to erase the effect on the cause

_ —You exist for me _

It is deadly

_ Remember what is was like for your heart to fill with resolve— _

_ —Wake up _

_ May your power flow through your veins, may your eyes see victory— _

_ —Wake Up _

_ Breakthrough the barrier separating us— _

_ —WAKE Up _

_ Can you hear me? _

_ —WAKE UP _

_ Make yourselves known in this worl— _

It consumes you.

_ —WAKE THE HELL UP _

Giorno!

What the  _ hell _ are you doing?

Why did you do this?

I love you.

Giorno, I’m cold…help me.

Giorno, did you really kill them?

Giorno, what we did was right..please, don’t cry, not now.

I’m not letting you hold back my life.

Worthless kid.

Five _ — _

Giorno was awakened by the sound of Coniglio screaming.

He covered his hands with his mouth, abruptly ending the Song, making a mental check to tell Mista to shoot him if he loses control tomorrow..

“Coni, what’s wrong?” he held her close.

“T-The caskets…” her eyes were wild, still coming down from the high Giorno’s Song gave her. 

Giorno looked at the empty caskets. “Oh god.”

Thinking fast, he checked for signs of life.

He swiveled around.

Not fast enough.

Risotto was covered in blood, his eyes glassy and unfocused, barely strong enough to keep himself upright.

Yet he still crafted a blade to point at Giorno’s throat.

“Coni…” Giorno edged back, seeing glints of the other assassins in the darkness. “Try to stay very still…”

Slowly, Giorno took a step toward Risotto.

“Risotto Nero?” He extended his hand. “My name is Giorno Giovanna—”

“G—iorn—o?” his voice was raw and uncertain, not surprising, given that he hasn’t spoken in 3 years.

“Y—Yes.”

Risotto dropped to one knee. “Giorno, king.”

The other assassins came out from their hiding places and followed suit.

Giorno smiled, “No,” he corrected. “Prince.”

****

“Give La Squadra to Sheila E. It’s time I made her something more than Trish’s bodyguard.”

Coniglio sealed the exist behind her, leaving La Squadra in the lab. “Giorno, I when I was conducting the examination…” She cleared her throat. “Their powers are stable, maybe even better than before, but—”

“—they minds, they all show signs of significant brain damage, it’s probably affecting  their memories and personalities—”

“Yes,” Giorno confirmed, walking up the twisting corridors. “I..lost control during the Song. You’re mind was protected thanks to the exercises I performed from last month. It was a foreseeable mistake that will not occur during the Song tomorrow. It’s for the best in their case anyway.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I was one of those responsible for their deaths, part the head of the revolution. If they were not broken by the Song, they might have wanted to extract their revenge. I need their resolve, their killing intent, their loyalty. I need them to rely on me, I do not need their minds.”

Coniglio opened the door to the outdoor ward for Giorno. “Then you should be happy to know that’s what you got. In their current states, they’ll be at most, ghost of their former selves, full blown zombies at worst.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to try and make Intoner singing interesting, so I tried this. Poetry isn't my thing and sorry if this is hard to read
> 
> I'll probablly post a lore piece explaining this AU some time in the future
> 
> Now, You might be wondering who Coniglio is.  
> No, she is not an OC, she's a canon character from the Vento Aureo Tie in Novella: Golden Heart, Golden Ring (but you probably know that if you've seen my twitter)  
> I think she (and all of GHGR in general) deserves more acknowledgement from the JoJo fandom, so I put her in here
> 
> Here's the wiki page for Coniglio and GHGR, and if you ever want to see a proper translation of the story, feel free to bring it to translators' attention (or just ask me for a bootleg copy)
> 
> https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Coniglio
> 
> https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/GioGio%27s_Bizarre_Adventure_2:_Golden_Heart,_Golden_Ring
> 
> https://www.reddit.com/r/StardustCrusaders/comments/aq9kuc/golden_heartgolden_ring_light_novel_japanese/


	3. Slow-Acting Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giorno and Fugo have a chat before bed

Giorno opened the door to his bedroom and saw Fugo lying on the bed, reading a book while eating strawberries.

“Fugo?” Giorno rubbed his head. “Shit, I forgot—”

“It’s okay,” Fugo didn’t look up. “I’m too tired for sex anyway.”

“Oh thank god.” Giorno plopped next to him, groaning as he clutched the blood-red sheets.

Fugo passed the plate of the remaining strawberries to Giorno. “Mista told me that you haven’t eaten in a week, so help yourself.”

Giorno leaned in to kiss him, which Fugo responded by playfully swatting him away.

“You need to file your fangs again.” he said. “And I saw what your nails did to Mista’s back, you need to take care of those as well.” he handed Giorno a nail file.

Giorno smilled, revealing his fangs, getting a small laugh out of Fugo.

“Fugo, how was the Country of Sands?” he said as he began to work on his nails, using his other hand to place strawberries directly into his mouth.

“Hot, sweaty, filled with shifters and hidden creatures. I have no idea why you made us go while Intoner Jotaro was there, the security was a pain in the ass.”

“After Three pays his respects, it is a lot easier to get a look at the memorials, and everyone would be so distracted by the Intoner that they’d forget to check for tunnels or stolen objects, if nothing looks out of place.”

“The copies worked—” Fugo put down the book, looking at Giorno. “I’ve been on covert missions long enough, GioGio. When am I going to start officially working for Passione?”

“Covert missions teach you, Murolo and Sheila E patience, not to mention,  **_trust_ ** .” he reached out, letting Fugo’s hair pass through his fingers. “Besides, I’m not letting the other Intoners or their disciples know that I have you.” 

Fugo pushed his hand away. “What?  _ Why _ ?”

“You are the host to the most dangerous, most  _ resilient _ virus born in this world.” Giorno said. “And I need that skill of yours to help me build a nation without fear, Fugo. It is very important work that requires secrecy.”

“You want me to infect someone?”

“Yes.”

“Do they threaten us?”

“Of course.”

“Then I will kill him.” Fugo said. “I served Bruno because I was a useful tactician, I made the hard choices when emotions blinded everyone else. I came back  **_because_ ** you proved to me that you are a man worth following. I will  **_rid_ ** the world of anyone who threatens his—your dream. But—”

His eyes narrowed. “—If I even think that you may be using me to kill the innocent—the undeserving, or if you ask me to be cannon fodder for whatever crusade you have planned next, I’ll vanish once more and we’ll never see each other.”

Giorno laughed, his fingers tracing the nape of Fugo’s neck. “And we could you go that me of Mista can’t find you?”

“Why would I tell you?” he raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t matter where I go. I’d find a life for myself, the one Narancia and I always wanted—”

Giorno took his hand away and Fugo bit his lip.

“The point is—” Fugo continued after a short pause. “I’d make a life for myself, a  **_real_ ** one. It’s what Bruno would have wanted.”

“ _ That’s what Bruno would have wanted _ ?” Giorno snapped back in a mocking tone. “You? Alone? Raising sheep in some farm in the middle of nowhere or back on the streets?”

“There’s nothing wrong with a life lived only for myself.” Fugo said through gritted teeth.

Giorno raised his hand flippantly. “I wouldn’t know.”

There was more silence, the only thing stopping Fugo from leaving was Giorno’s say-so.

After was seemed like hours, Giorno finally broke the silence.

“But yes, Pannacotta Fugo,” he said. “I need you to infect a man conspiring against my future for Passione. For this year and a half, you’ve listened to my guidance, you’ve said your piece—” his hand pressed softly against Fugo’s cheek. His thumb pressed against Fugo’s lower lip. “What I require of you, is to listen, and then speak up if I am not doing what is right. But I need you to have faith in my first. I need you to  **_actually trust_ ** me.”

“We’re going to change the world, Fugo, don’t you want that?”

For a second, Fugo looked hesitant. “GioGio…”

Giorno raised his eyelashes in acknowledgement.

“Back when I was living with my family, I was just a tool, a way to prove that new money could be just as cultured as the nobility and ruling class. Even with Bruno, I was mostly either there to give advice or there as a final warning. The only person I was just ‘Pannacotta Fugo’ to was my grandmother, and that name lost all meaning when she died.”

“But even after that, Bruno took me in, he believed in me when no one else did, and respected my decisions until the end. He is probably more worthy than me to be with you right now.” his eyes hardened again. “I will follow you to the ends of this earth, GioGio...but I need this killing, this espionage, this covert missions against the other Intoners to stop someday...I want a life not ruled by violence or my usefulness to others. I need a chance to make a life that works for me.”

Giorno sighed. “I know, I promise, just—just give me the next few years, okay? Then you’ll get that shot at the life you’ve always wanted.”

“Promise me, GioGio.”

“I just did. Help me do good for this nation and I promise that I’ll move the heavens for you. I’d rather die than break it.”

With that, Giorno rolled himself on top of Fugo’s hips, stripping himself of his lab coat.

“Now,” he ran his finger through his hair. “I guess that I have energy for a little late night pleasure after all, do you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giorno desperately loves his disciples, I just think he's cares about his dream more.
> 
> But he will try his best not to let them suffer, so he isn't a lost cause.
> 
> Idk if this is making any sense


	4. What is the Past but a Branch of Memory?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see brief flashes of the events that led Giorno on this path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did I say about Jonathan being a bad father?
> 
> This version of him has been through some stuff though, and Giorno's creation wasn't exactly "pleasant"
> 
> Giorno himself has seen many things however, and nothing really turned him into Jonathan's strong buff arms. In the end, Intoner Giorno is a strange amalgamation of One, Three and Four from DOD3
> 
> And yes, this version of Vento Aureo took place over the course of 5 years, leaving Giorno 20 by the end and 23 by the time Five Lives takes place

****

Sleep did not come easy to Giorno Giovanna

Not in years

Not since birth

Memories mixed in with the nightmares

Good dreams were twisted by bad ends.

****

_I was born from One’s body._

_My first sight was him gasping on the floor, bleeding from the neck._

_He couldn’t even look at me._

_The couple that Jonathan had picked to raise me—_

_“I’m not going to sacrifice just because I have to serve a kid, no way!”_

_“Damned brat, stop staring at me like that”_

_I had to learn fast._

_So I came into my powers sooner than most._

_“Five, what have you done?”_

_“Did turning the caretakers I assigned to you into your personal garden make you feel better?”_

_“...Don’t do that again.”_

_He never understood what it was like for me. Be shaking in the middle of the night with no one to comfort you._

_To young and alone, with no one to comfort you when you’d cry._

_My bruises healed too fast for him to notice, let alone care with the entire weight of Midgard on his shoulders._

_No one would pick on me for my Intoner status, but no one would go near me either._

_This only ever changed when I ran away from Jonathan’s care._

_There was a man. I found him by the stench of his blood, pouring onto his clothes, on the ground, in the shadows of the wall._

_“Hey kid, *cough* *cough* get lost, I don’t want you getting hurt here.”_

_I never had anything to fear, and saw a man you shared my lonely melancholy._

_So I lied._

_The authorities never caught him, and I never learned why he was injured in the first place._

_“I’ll never forget what you did for me, kid.”_

_He was always doomed to die, but he taught me many things before he did._

_I was doomed to walk this path._

_****_

_Narancia’s lips where soft, and despite his name, his mouth did not taste like oranges._

_“So, how does it feel?” He puffed out his chest. “Better than Mista’s right?”_

_Giorno smiled. “It’s...not bad…”_

_“Not bad!” Narancia stood up. “I’m a great kisser! Fugo said so.”_

_“You’re a great kisser, Narancia.” Giorno said. “It’s just that….my body wants more than just a kiss.”_

_“Wha—’more than ‘just a kiss’—” Narancia’s mouth shaped into an ‘o’._

_“L—Like what you and Mista where doing at the boat?”_

_Giorno nodded. “I’m of age, my matured body has Intoner needs, it’s not your fault.”_

_“Yeah,” Narancia scratched his back. “I guess in all the years we’ve known each other, I never thought about that—I don’t think I can—”_

_Giorno grabbed his hands. “—And you don’t have to, not if you don’t want to. I would derive any happiness from forcing my needs onto you. Let’s go at your pace, okay?”_

_****_

_Giorno stood over Narancia’s body._

_Iron bars were stuck through his body like a pincushion._

_His eyes were still open, his face still wet with tears._

_“Why wasn’t I there?” Giorno wrapped Narancia’s body with flowers. “Why did you go alone?”_

_Narancia didn’t answer, so Giorno kissed him for old time’s sake._

****

_Living underground with rebels was not the worse place Giorno could be._

_“Good morning.”_

_Abbacchio grunted. “Shut the hell up Giorno, it’s too early to deal with you.” He started the fireplace, hooking the pot right above it._

_Giorno shrugged. “I looked over the battle plans for the next supply raid, are you that it’s the best idea to—”_

_“Does ‘shut the hell up’ have a different meaning for Intoners?”_

_“Leone, don’t be rude.” Bruno yawned as he stepped out of the bedroom. “I’ll go over the plans with you later, okay Giorno?”_

_Giorno nodded, getting up from the table. “I’ll go check in with Mista then.”_

_Bruno nodded and watched Giorno leave._

_Through the ruined glass, Giorno could see Bruno and Abbachio’s forms come together, sharing a rare quiet moment without war._

****

_Despite their differences, Giorno still respected him. Abbacchio was good and what he did and eventually, warmed up to him._

_This never should have happened._

_Abbacchio was found dead near the pier._

_His mouth had been cut off, and the skin from a dead child nearby was used in its place, making him truly “mouthless”._

_His eyes were gouged out, and all evidence pointed to this occuring when he wa still alive._

_His body was severed at the hips, organ knotting up nearby, and his skin was hard as stone._

_A strange, painful death indeed._

_Narancia had yelled at Giorno to save him, like he did with Bruno._

_Giorno hadn’t meant for Abbacchio to get kidnapped, to get tortured into stone._

_It was neutral territory, a perfect place to hide the princess._

_Bruno couldn’t look at the body. He didn’t even want to bury him._

_“We don’t have the time.” He would say, biting his lip. “We need to forget about him—”_

****

_Out of all the people I had hoped to save, I thought Bruno would have been one of them._

_When we first met, I doubt he even knew what I was, he had to be convinced of my worth._

_I had done me own research, I knew the problems Passione was beset with; drug addictions, corruption, civilian executions._

_I offered to help._

****

_“Giorno, are you alright?” Bruno was holding a lantern._

_“Of course.”_

_“I thought I heard crying”_

_“You must be mistaken.” I said, not looking at his face._

_He sat down. “I don’t know what made you abandon you fellow Intoners to lend us a hand, but you do not need to be alone.”_

_“I told you, I am fine.” I needed to change the subject. “How are you doing?”_

_His eyes widened in confusion._

_“Last week, when we were attacked by King Diavolo, your injuries were bad. You were not even breathing when Trish and I found you.”_

_“....I…” Bruno spoke slowly. “...was unconscious for a while, I was not aware of my heart stopping.”_

_“Bruno, if anything is going on with you, you need to tell—”_

_“It’s not a problem, I need you to focus on the cause, Giorno, not me.”_

****

_If fate was just, the revolutionaries would have won without needing me, without needing to pick up their weapons._

_But Diavolo was cruel king, and an even meaner Daemon._

_Revolutionaries were lined up with common murderers and killed in broad daylight._

_Or they slowly tortured to death._

_I saw suffering, I saw the fear that ruled this people’s lives , leading them to crime and early deaths. The people my father failed._

_“What we did was right.”_

_That is what Bruno would say after every mission, after every killing, after every time we came back with more losses then gain._

_I had to be useful, my abilities were pushed to their absolute limit._

_Even with my help, it would be five years until we reached King Diavolo._

_I had saved Bruno once, but not again._

****

_“Bruno! Stay with me! I can fix you again, I know I can!”_

_Bruno gasped. In order to destroy the Daemon created by the Requiem Arrow, one needed to destroy the light in their very soul._

_“Giorno—” Bruno erupted into a coughing fit, black scrawl crawling up his body. “Don’t waste your Song on me—Before I met you, my heart was dying a slow death…. I’m fine with the way my story ends. Don’t worry about it—Give everyone my—”_

_The scrawl had completely covered Bruno’s body._

_Giorno felt the arrow fall into his hand and Bruno went limp_

****

_“What we did was right.”_

_And it was._

_Only the world could be called wrong—this world full of lords who shit on their people, this world with smug murderers who dance around in gaudy crowns._

_This world where those who stand up on behalf of the weak are crushed like so many worms._

_This world where Intoners ignored the cries of the innocent._

_I want to destroy it._

****


	5. The Miracle Festival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And on the Eight Day, the Dead walked

Giorno had Fugo double the power sources on last time, having him discard of any ones that showed signs or sickness or decay.

“Am I supposed to be singing backup?”

Giorno looked up his last minute notes. “Trish? I thought you were still on stage?”

“I finished a half an hour ago, you’re on in a few minutes.”

Giorno kissed her hand. “How are doing?”

Trish shrugged. “Good, I’ve been looking to play in the Land of Seas, I heard that they’re underwater city has unique  acoustics that I want to experience for myself. Sheila’s been nice to.”

“She has?”

“She’s really polite,” Trish said. “But she get easily flustered when I touch her...are you sure that she is built to be a bodyguard?”

“Sheila E gets….flustered?”

“Is something unusual, GG?” Trish’s eyes were big and unrealizing.

“N—No, it’s not my job to interfere.” Giorno stood up. “I should go and begin the Song. You’re welcome to stick around.”

Trish shook her head. “I am my father’s daughter in Passione’s eyes. I’d hate to overstay my welcome. Who know how they’ll react if they find that you were talking to me….”

Giorno left the tent, making his way to the podium.

Underneath overcast skies, in the clearing just beyond the crowding citizens, was thousands upon thousands of coffins.

Each coffin was connected to an array of pumps, starting from underneath the podium that would be activated when Giorno begins his Song.

Giorno could recall what he said in the speech, his nerves were shot to hell.

With a single mistake, he could bring the plan he’s worked on for three years to an unglamorous end.

Before he opened his mouth, no one said anything, even the birds were still.

As his public disciple, it was Mista’s job to channel his power.

“Behold the fifth song—” He boomed. “—Grand Light of Antiquity! The great power made manifest... The ceremony of glorious revival... Look upon the healing arrow of divine reduction! I, Guido, summon thee in my name...Golden Experience: The Requiem, arise!”

He changed the Song from the night before, removing the alternating lines. He’s practiced Singing since he was little, he knew how to sing without letting those listening getting too hooked on the words, how make his Song not become as dangerous as the drugs he worked so hard to get out of the kingdom.

When he finished, no one said a word.

Slowly, the coffins, each with a golden arrow struck in their centers, began to open on their own.

What were at first shambling undead slowly became more and more alive as their bodies healed and memories return.

For the first time, the Kingdom of Passione no longer had to fear death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but the next chapter has more weight to it
> 
> I have not read PHF, so I do not know if Sheila E is capable of getting flustered around cute girls
> 
> Trish, after her father died and her family was basically seen as the worst thing ever, became a famous travelling Songtress. When she returns to Passione, she has to be flanked by trusted Passione Guards so she doesn't wind up dead in a ditch somewhere.
> 
> She's half "Daemon", but not in a way that's natural, and certainly not in a way that's good (If I ever write stuff on the non-Intoners, I get more into this)


	6. The Reveal and the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You knew this was coming

Giorno and Mista jumped down from the podium, meeting back up with Coniglio.

“How are we doing?” Giorno fixed his hair as he talked.

“So far, everything looks okay,” She explained, tapping the back of the podium to reveal a secret elevator. “And you idea put the reserves in there just in case is really paying off, we might even have a few left for future use.”

Following her, they soon standing in front of a huge, egg-shaped vat that was connected with the pumps outside.

Opening the vats, the trio were hit with the overwhelming stench of fresh blood.

While Coniglio and Mista recoiled, Giorno stepped forward, breathing it all in.

Staring into the vat of blood, something cut his eyes.

There was a hand, reaching out to the unreachable heavens, still moving when it should have been tossed in the blender with everyone else.

Giorno grabbed onto it and pulled.

The man came out, gasping for air.

“Y—You!” The man pointed a bloody finger at him. “You did this! You killed them! You tried to kill m—”

Giorno slammed his heeled foot down upon the man’s head, forcing him to kneel.

“I killed no one. All I did was repurpose you lords for something that would give back to the people you made suffer. Convicts sentenced to death should not get to choose how they become useful to society.”

“Killer—”

“Shut up.”

“—KILLER—”

“I said—”

“—KILL—”

Giorno slammed his shoe against the lord’s head. “I SAID SHUT UP! DON’T MAKE ME REPEAT MYSELF!”

If Coniglio hadn’t intervened, Giorno probably would have stomped that man’s head into paste.

Giorno snapped out of his rage, and almost in a daze, scrapped his bloody heel against the floor, trying to get rid of the blood, and bits of skull and brain.

“Coni, heal him.” Giorno heard his voice. “Do before he passes, quickly.”

Sobbing profanities, the lord was dragged away by Mista.

Giorno snapped his fingers, closing the vat. “I need to check on the private caskets, Coni, let’s go.”

****

There were many things that still needed to be done, experiments to check, but first, Giorno needed to rest, to relax.

At least, he tried to.

Opening his eyes, he rose from his bed.

“Why are you still here?”

“Can’t a father visit his son?”

Giorno turned around.

Dio was in his room, sitting on Giorno's dresser, legs crossed.

“I don’t need you anymore.” Giorno groaned, moving Mista’s and Fugo’s naked forms in order to get out of bed. “Go to wherever hell you reside in.”

Dio sighed, brushing his pants off. “I can’t do that, Giorno, and frankly I'm disappointed.”

“Why?”

“You have the powers of two of the greatest Intoners this world will ever hope to see, and yet you choose to waste it making _**humans**_ of all beings, happy. What is the use of power if it cannot bring you happiness?" he smirked. "Or did you actually care about those pathetic rebels—"

“What I do with _**my**_ power is my own damn—” Giorno choked as he felt his body turn against him.

“An embarrassment of a son with a kingdom that fears him as well as worships him.” Dio picked Giorno up and dragged him onto the desk chair.

“You—” Giorno gasped. “Did not **_raise_ ** me at all!” he snarled. "And don't you dare try to lecture me on how to rule, what could a self-absorbed god know about rules?"

Dio smiled, ignoring the question. “I guess not, I don’t think anyone ever had the chance to turn an insect like you into the angel I hoped you still can become..”

Giorno felt Dio’s hold release from his body.

“Without my vast knowledge of Song,” Dio went on. “Would you even know how to revive your sorry friends if it was not for me?”

“I said that I would use you power for my own dreams, you said that you’d let me be.”

“And I will,” Dio looked back at the dresser. “But first, you must do something for me.”

Dio handed Giorno a knife.

“If I cannot use you, produce something useful for me.”

Giorno held the dagger in one hand, drawing a line down his chest with the other.

“You know,” Giorno said, leaning back onto the bed. “I’ve always wanted to meet you….One was more interested in being the leader, and my caretakers preferred themselves. But now that we’ve gotten to know each other really well, there’s only one thing I can say—”

Giorno plunged the knife into his chest.

“—MUDA!”

A shining light came out of Giorno’s chest, and the dagger was slowly pushed out.

Out of Giorno’s chest came a hand. And another, and another.

Giorno tried his hardest to keep quiet as the bodies pushed one another to get out first.

Afterwards he was shaking, trying to stop the bile from reaching his throat.

Dio inspected his rewards; three sons, each with the potential of a true intoner.

“I—do—not—” Giorno gasped. Wiping the sweat from his face. “—bleed for your sake. You have your gifts, now leave.”

“You always had them in you, son.”

Dio smiled and vanished, along with Giorno’s brothers.

Hearing Mista and Fugo’s breathing, Giorno let out a sigh of relief—

—and promptly threw up.

****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to do more with the powered by blood thing, but this will work for now.
> 
> Nothing is gained without sacrifice, and it's not like anyone would miss this guys anyway.
> 
> How aware are the other Intoners of Giorno's particular method of making sentenced to death lords useful again? You'll find out eventually
> 
> But yeah, Intoner Giorno does not like it if people don't listen to him the first time, not at all.
> 
> Is Dio the Black Flower? An Intoner? Something Else? You'll know when I decide!
> 
> Dio is also a bad father, but at least Giorno has brothers (?) now
> 
> UPDATE 4/2/19: I changed some of the dialogue. I just think it flows a bit better now


	7. Family Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giorno decides to use honey with his family
> 
> But vinegar with his father

“There’s still time to cancel.”

Giorno inspected the bags underneath his eyes. “Are they in Passione?”

Fugo frowned. “Well, yes—”

“Then there’s no time.” Giorno tried his best to cover them up before stepping out to greet the guest waiting for him in the courtyard.

His black, leather two piece suit was way too tight, and he hated the way it stuck to his skin. His chest was still sensitive, but he had spent all morning covering up the damage so he could still have the heart-window with nothing underneath.

The top piece of the suit extended downwards like a dress with gold trims in ornate patterns lining the ends. His pants and heels were of similar color and design.

Awaiting him were three other Intoner; Jotaro of the Land of Seas, Jolyne, who has yet to receive a land of governance, and Jonathan, Head Intoner, “Guardian of Midgard”.

“I had only sent a letter to Three.” Giorno began, smiling, crossing his arms above his waist. “But I am glad that you two could make it as well.”

Thunder roared overhead.

Jotaro only grunted a response, keeping Jolyne close to him. Jonathan smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I was told your ‘Miracle Festival’ went well.” Jonathan said as Giorno led them inside before the rain started.

“It did. I was able to make my citizens happy, I am glad.”

"It was a shame that you did not invite any of your family to witness your work," Jonathan's eyes were cold, but gave off the appearance of being sincere. "You did not allow any of our courts inside the kingdom as well, is there something that I should be—"

“I hate the land.” Jotaro interrupted. “Why are we here?”

Jolyne jabbed Jotaro in the shoulder. “Shut it! You don’t hate anything, you’re just cranky that you aren’t holed up in your library.”

“I’m _cranky_ because someone robbed the memorial in the Country of Sands.” Jotaro growled. “If I find whoever is responsible, I will **_rip_ ** their spine from their body and replace it with a _**sword**_.”

Giorno smiled. “Yes, I believe heard something about that from a visiting dignitary. What a depraved thing, to steal the bones of those long gone.”

Jotaro didn’t say anything.

Jonathan clapped his hands together. “Well Giorno, you called Jotaro here for reason, yes?”

“Yes, I wanted to give him gifts.”

Jotaro snorted. “Gifts? For what?”

“For….future cooperation.” he snapped his fingers.

The door opened.

“....Jotaro….?

Giorno blinked.

Jotaro must have subconsciously stopped time, for he had already lept across the table to bear hug the strangers.

“Y—You’re alive.” Was all he could say, over and over, as if he was a broken record. “—You’re all—alive—”

Kakyoin struggled against his embrace. “Jotaro—We won’t be for any longer if you keep—”

Jotaro released them. Kakyoin, Avdol and Iggy, righted themselves, taking huge breaths.

“H—How?”

“It was Intoner Giorno,” Avdol explained. “I don’t know how he did it, but I was suddenly taken from darkness of Vanilla Ice and awoke in a casket underground. My hands—” He flexed is brand new prosthetics. “—were completely used up to reverse-engineer the rest of my body.” He sighed, “Jean didn’t mind, but one some level, this upgrade bothers me.”

Iggy barked, causing Kakyoin to bow down and scratch him.

Jotaro turned Kakyoin’s face towards him.

“Hi…” Kakyoin gave him a playful smile. “I’ve been told it’s been almost two decades, you still hadn’t found someone to replace me?”

“I could never even think about replacing you,” Jotaro’s voice was soft, scared, as if Kakyoin would blow away if he even blinked. “You’re my disciple, Nori, I wanted to die after you did.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.” Kakyoin responded, matching Jotaro’s delicate tone. “You’ve matured well, Three.”

Jolyne leaned into Giorno’s ear. “Who...are they?”

“Back in his youth, your parent was part of a team of adventurers.” Giorno said. “But in a routine trip to the Country of Sands, something went wrong. Only Three knows the details, but half of his team perished.”

Giorno felt a hand press against his shoulder.

“Five,” Jonathan dull voice droned in Giorno’s ear, sending thorns down his spine. “I wish to talk to you, _privately_.”

****

Giorno led Jonathan into a private room.

“Was turning Passione in a wretched hive of undead truly the way to make your citizens, ‘forget fear’?”

“You don’t understand,” Giorno had prepared for this. “Passione was completely decimated after the civil war, the citizens were utterly demoralized. If I had not done something, _anything_ , the kingdom would have fallen back into darkness. All of Bruno's—the revolution's—no, **_my_**   work would have been for _**fucking**_ nothing!”

“The dead should remain dead, and the living should recognize the importance of their sacrifice.”

“Is that what you told Three?” Giorno asked. “He seems pretty damn happy that he doesn’t have to recognize their deaths anymore.”

Jonathan frowned. “You crossed a line.”

“What are you going to do about it? If you attack me, the other Intoners will begin to question you.”

Jonathan did not respond to this, instead looking into Giorno’s eyes. “You shouldn’t have to the power to completely revive the dead, or to bring back their souls to the material world. Who did you get this power from?”

Giorno crossed his arms. “You already know who gave me my power. It takes more than one Intoner to create a child, especially one with a brain.”

“You are messing with something you don’t understand.” Jonathan grabbed his shoulders. “Dio is not the Devil, he’s **_worse_ **.”

“I understand plenty. I understand that a world without fear is a world without death, I understand I need to prepare my citizen for when we Intoners will bring this world to an end...." he bit his lip. "....I understand that you are a hypocrite.” he added, quietly.

Jonathan froze. “What do you mean?”

“When were you planning to introduce Seven to our little family?”

Jonathan went silent.

“You couldn’t be happy with one child to neglect, so you created a clone, though you knew that it increases the chances of this world becoming a seedbed. How is what I did different?”

“You...you were a creation of malice and sadism. Seven was made as test subject. He literally could not be like you in any way.”

Giorno snorted. “He and I have more in common than you think; you discarded both of us when you realized that neither of us could give you what you want. You will not be able to hold the same moral code you instilled into the others over us, we will surpass you.”

“You’re going to regret this.” Jonathan said as he opened the door. "We are a  _ **family**_ , we do not tear each other apart."

“Maybe, Father—” Giorno murmured as the door slammed shut. “—but I do not have any other choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, Intoner Jonathan? Not the best
> 
> Will I write something for Seven? The answer is yes! I just need to figure out what.
> 
> Jotaro's a sap though. Jolyne would rather be at home but Joot doesn't trust her by herself yet.
> 
> I'm still mastering the art of writing arguments, but I don't think I did a horrible job with this one.


	8. What I did was Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End. This took like a week, and I'll go back and fix some things I wasn't really happy with once I get a cleaner picture of this AU, but currently I'm really happy with what I came up with for Five. He tries his best to play the game, but no matter what he does, he'll never really get the perfect victory he so craves.

“ **_Ouch_ ** !”

“You’re going to be sensitive at first.” Giorno hummed. “Your body has been remade and has lacked stimuli for around three years. You need to take it easy, Narancia.”

Narancia frowned, hissing in pain again when Giorno applied more pressure to his back.

“....Hey, Gio—“

“Hmm?”

“Are….we still going to be a thing, or—”

“—Only if you still want us to be.” Giorno said. “And whether or not you become a disciple—that’s up to you as well.”

Narancia let out a breathe. “O—Okay….”

Giorno’s fingertips hovered over one of Narancia’s repaired wounds, one of the slightly discolored scars, all of which were circular in nature.

“Make a sound when you feel something.” He pressed against it.

“...Narancia?”

“Yeah Gio?”

“How….is Abbacchio? I haven’t made the time to check on him yet.”

“He’s...fine I guess—I mean, fine given what happened.” Narancia’s fingers tapped against the cold infirmary bed. “He...still isn’t talking you know, even though he has his mouth back, he won’t eat either, and keeps bumping into things—”

“I’ll see to him next.” Giorno stood up and began scrawling words into Narancia’s check-up sheet. “Where’s Bruno?”

“I think he said something about wanting to see the sun—Wait, shouldn’t you want to know where Abba—”

Giorno slammed the door behind him.

When he pressed Narancia’s wound, not only did Narancia not react, it moved.

The skin stretched downwards, the filling unplanted and only covering the surface.

This was not what Giorno wanted.

This was not what DIO promised.

Giorno found Bruno standing in the hallway balcony, staring at the sunset.

“Bruno?” Giorno touched his shoulder.

He turned around.

Bruno’s skin wasn’t the right pigmentation, too grey, too sickly, too cold, his eyes like glassy blue marbles instead of the sharp bright blue ones from Giorno’s memory. Giorno wasn’t even sure Bruno could hear him.

Giorno swallowed, trying to even his voice, taking Bruno’s hand. “B—Bruno, I—“

He fell to his knees, pressing Bruno’s hand against his forehead, tears turning to seedlings as they hit the cold stone.

“Was what I did right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruno was probably the best person to try their hand at teaching Giorno, but Bruno eventually got more swept up in the cause and Giorno's inspiration/status as an Intoner to be a completely positive influence on Giorno's development. Bruno was never really fit out to be parent either, he never really was a kid.
> 
> Gionara is cute. I wish I could have squeezed more into it for this piece, but Giomis and Fugio didn't really get much either, so it kinda even out.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy


End file.
